


Off with the Gloves

by Moonandstar331



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mystic Falls (Vampire Diaries), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23720161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonandstar331/pseuds/Moonandstar331
Summary: His eyes darkened at the idea of being her exhaustion, of exhausting her until he became that smudgy thought on the edge of her vision. A series of one shots between our favorite sizzling couple.
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Off with the Gloves**

He wanted to shake her.

He wanted to take her in his arms and forcibly shake her, tell her to _never_ put him through that again.

She was acting like a child. In a way, she still was. In all his years as a vampire, he had never met a woman more infuriating.

Damon pinned her with a dark glare.

_Stupid girl._ She stood there, in flowing drapes of black silk and golden toile that clung deliciously to her frame. Why couldn't she do as she was told?

He watched her pretty little mouth pucker into a frown. Luminous brown eyes met his own and he fought to cage the lust that had tinged his anger. His eyes darkened at the idea of being her exhaustion, of exhausting her until he became that smudgy thought on the edge of her vision. Damon caught the sweeping look of defiance clashing behind her doe eyed façade.

_So that's how she wants to play._

"Did you get what you wanted?" He asked coolly, hands clenched in the silk of her shawl.

"Actually yes." She replied, her eyes glimmering, pleading with him to understand her reasoning.

"Good, I'm your ride home. We're leaving." He ground out.

Elena found her arm unceremoniously snatched, as she was half dragged like a petulant child. She glanced up, and immediately regretted it. Fire danced, wild and untamed behind cobalt blue orbs.

Utterly sick of his caveman antics, Elena gathered her strength and pulled. "Damon _let go_ of me." She hissed, shrugging roughly from his grasp.

She clattered backgrounds, wobbling precariously in her hills. Mentally cursing the waxed floors, Elena struggled to regain her balance.

A band of steel wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her in a vice like grip.

_How dare he?_

"Look, I'm sorry, I had to cut you out of the plan," she started in a half guilty whisper.

"There shouldn't have been a plan, you shouldn't be here." He hissed, eyes darkening.

"You think I like going behind your back, I don't. But if I hadn't asked Stephan to help, you would have tried to be the hero and you would have ruined everything." Elena hated lying to him. But lately, his heroic antics usually ended in sabotage.

"Sorry for trying to keep you alive," he snapped his temper spiking. "Clearly Stephan doesn't give a crap anymore."

Elena balked, eyebrows furrowing. "Now you're mad at me for including Stephan?" _Is that really what he thinks?_

"No, I'm mad at you because I love you!" He snapped, bristling at her deviant behavior.

"Well maybe that's the problem." It poured from her mouth so easily; she almost believed her own lie.

In a whirl of silk, she turned away from him, strolling across the foyer and towards her escape. She was nearly there when she was snatched off her feet and shoved into a darkened corridor away from the glow of the party.

"I wasn't done yet," he whispered, his tone silky. She found herself trying to avoid that scrutinizing look in his eyes. She shivered as he cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his blazing gaze. _Stupid, arrogant man,_ she seethed mentally, even as she tried to quell the shaking of her legs.

She had defied him. Elena welcomed the chills that prickled her neck at the thought. She had defied him and _liked_ it. Better yet, she liked what it did to him. This demanding, dominate force that had her pinned to the wall. Elena leaned forward towards her imposing captor.

"Well, I'm not sorry I talked to Esther," she quipped _Careful, you're playing with fire._

In a flash she was wretched to his chest, her body flush with his. Damon clenched her hips firmly. Peering up into his glittering eyes, she was rewarded with the darkness that pooled there.

"You sure you're not just sorry you got caught?" His voice was gravel, rumbling in her ear. Elena hesitated. She was teetering right on the edge, just one more step and she would be over.

Feeling rebellious, her lips twitched in a devilish smirk, and without a second thought, she threw herself over the edge. "Nope." She said crisply.

Instantly she felt the sting of his hand as it collided with her bottom, even through the many layers of fabric. Elena sucked in a gasp, as delicious heat spread from his hand to between her legs.

"Brat," he admonished, nibbling her lip.

"Since you're feeling so bold, I think it's time these came off," He whispered, eyes black with lust. His hand crept expertly up her dress, skimming over her smooth thighs to the scrap of black lace that was her underwear. He pulled them down, tantalizingly slow. In a flash he had them bunched in his fist. She was completely exposed, her bottom bare under the layers of her dress. And then he let her go. "See if you can behave yourself for the evening." He pocketed her panties with a smirk before propelling her forward with another smack.

Elena skittered away from him, joining the throng of bodies under the light of the crystal chandelier. She clenched her legs, trying to stifle the dull ache that throbbed there. Her thoughts were rooted to the darkened edge that had found its way into his gaze. She relished the thought of being that darkened edge. He had corrupted her.

And he thought he had won. _Game on Salvatore._ Elena strode purposefully towards her target, a determined glint in her eye.

"Elijah," she approached the stoic vampire with a sunny smile. "Care for a drink?"

Elijah's normally serious features softened, his eyes twinkling. "I'd be delighted." His had found the small of her back as she let him lead her towards the bar.

She sneaked a peak over her could feel his gaze on her and casually leaned on Elijah's arm. _That'll teach him!_

Elena knew she was skating on thin ice, but frankly she didn't care.

She let Elijah get her a drink, taking care to brush his fingers as he did. She listened to his conversation, laughing heartily at every opportunity. Every chance she got she would touch his arm.

"Care for another?" Elijah asked some time later, indicating her two empty flutes.

Elena readily complied, relishing in the fire in her throat and the sheer confidence the champagne had brought.

Elijah nodded and disappeared into the crowd in search for more.

"Still feeling brave now, are we?" His voice was a seething fury in her ear. Elena nearly jumped as his hand came to rest possessively on her hip, drawing him close to his side.

"Let's just say I like a challenge." She breathed. The champagne _was_ making her brave, too brave.

"I will delight in showing you the errors of your thinking," he snapped, yanking her to him as he steered them towards the exit.

Moments later, Elijah returned, two champagne flutes in hand. His brow furrowed when he didn't see the doppelganger. Where could she have gone? He stood there puzzled for a few seconds, before it dawned on him. He knew exactly where she was. He smirked. Damon was going to have his hands full.

Elena fought to combat the worry coiling in her belly against the throbbing ache between her legs. Damon had drove them home at warp speed, his hands clenching the steering wheel in a death grip. She gulped slightly, knowing she may have pushed him a little too far.

The boarding house rose up, dark and quiet against the night. Elena was fully aware of his hand against her bottom as they walked silently up the steps. Once inside he swooped her up in his arms and carried her upstairs.

In his bedroom he jerked her to him, his hands finding the zipper at her back. "Let's get you out of this dress," he whispered.

Seconds later she stood in front of him in only her silken gloves. The cool air washed over her bottom and Elena shivered as she was exposed.

"This is how this is going to go. I'm going to be in charge and you're going to behave for once," his voice low, smoldering.

She fell against the bed with a protesting whine. "Don't you dare," he warned, taking her bottom lip between his teeth.

"I should punish you for what you put me through tonight," he growled against her skin. She mewled as his hands roamed, trailing her collarbone, tracing her navel, brushing the apex of her thighs.

"I thought you already did." She panted, plucking a scrap of lace from the sheets. "Remember these?" She twirled her underwear.

"Yes, that worked out very well," he hissed with a frown.

"Touch me." She demanded through gritted teeth.

"Oh?" His hand flitted over her bottom, stroking maddening circles in the soft skin. Elena's breath hitched as he landed a firm slap. Instantly he began to massage the sting.

"You were very naughty," he whispered, landing another slap to her behind. Elena nearly came undone at his words. He didn't massage this time, but instead let the sting sink in.

Elena squealed clutching him to her as his hand landed on her bottom a third time, pinking it slightly. Friction began to form between her thighs as his hand warmed her cheeks. Damon swooped down, crushing his mouth to hers in drugging kisses.

"You don't think you deserve this?" Damon asked against her lips, tracing the swell of her backside.

_Cocky bastard._ Elena harrumphed, turning away from his smirking mouth. _She wouldn't give him the satisfaction._

"Don't tease if you can't take the consequences, sweetheart," he warned. His lips trailed fire across her throat and onto her lips. She couldn't help it, and moaned into his mouth. _Damn him!_

"Just as long as you're the one to punish me," she breathed, relenting against him.

"Always," Damon promised, sweeping the hair from her face.

His teeth nibbled and nipped until he found her gloves. He peeled the silken strips from her tingling fingertips.

"I'm sorry I was naughty," she whispered, squirming as she said it, feeling very much like the child she had been acting like.

"Like I said before, I was mad at you because I love you, it comes with the territory." He explained, tucking her under his chin.

"You still mad?" She mumbled into the crook of his neck.

"That depends," he said with a smirk. "Are you still going to act like a child?"

Elena smiled and snuggled closer. Leaning up, she tugged gently on his chin until he was looking down at her.

"That depends, if you can be mad at me because you love me, than I can love you even when you make me mad." Her eyes were twinkling as she peered up at him.

"Smart mouth," he mumbled, brushing his lips over hers.

"You love it," she remarked cheekily.

"I love you," he declared.

"I love you too."

And just like that, the gloves came off.

\-----------------------------------

Well? What did you think? I have wanted to do this one-shot for ages! I always felt there was something more to the scene that needed to be further expanded.


	2. Teach Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damon teaches Elena a few things.

Gritting her teeth she squeezed hard and pumped forward.

"Don't grip it so hard, be gentle," His voice washed over her like silk.

Damon gripped her hand and guided it downward slowly."Like this, slow, smooth movements."

Elena gasped as it quivered under her fingertips. Licking the sweat that beaded above her lip, she allowed herself a small smile. This wasn't as hard as Caroline or Bonnie made it sound!

"See, you're getting it." He encouraged, a rare smile on his lips.

"Easy for you to say, you have one, you use it all the time, you know how to handle it," she quipped, still unsure of herself.

Damon smirked. "I've had lots of practice." His eyebrows waggled.

Elena rolled her eyes. Men. Why were they so fascinated with it? If only it weren't so long, she thought dolefully.

She gave it a half hearted tug, to no avail.

"Gah, this is hopeless!" She threw up her hands, ramming her fist into it in frustration.

"Hey, it's not invincible you know! You break it, your break a piece of me!" Damon cautioned, stroking it gently as if to make up for Elena's violent outburst.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I guess I'm just not good at this sort of thing."

"That's why you have me," Damon gloated smugly.

Elena snorted. "Stroke your ego much?"

"I'd like to stroke something else." His voice had dropped an octave and all of the humor and playful banter went out the window.

Elena was suddenly very warm in her sweater. Why did he have to go and make a comment like that?

"Don't pretend you don't know what we're doing here," he whispered eyes boring into hers. "We both know Stephan wasn't man enough to teach you this, so that left me."

Elena was hyperventilating. He was way too close and there was nowhere to run. She needed Damon's help anyway. How else was she to make any progress? This was a vital skill that all girls should know how to do! But he was making this so damn difficult, with his hand on hers, and his brilliant glittering eyes taunting her, and that mouth…. Elena's mind went fuzzy.

She couldn't deny it anymore. There was something between them.

"Damon," she whispered, annoyed that her voice came out strained. Why was she so affected by him?

"Elena." His voice was just as low. He leaned forward, cradling her face in his hands, his lips a hairs breadth away from hers.

"I can think of something much more fun to do in a car, than learn the stick shift."

Elena's eyes fluttered open, utterly startled. He had teased her. She felt an angry blush heat her cheeks.

"I can't believe you! You are such an ass!" Elena harrumphed, sitting back in her seat, arms crossed.

Damon merely chuckled at her pout. "Get over here," he muttered. Taking her face in his hands again he snatched her across the gear shift and to his hungry mouth.

He was right, Elena thought. This was much more fun than learning the stick shift.

\-------------------

What did you think? Ideas for future chapters, I'm up for anything! Moonandstar331


	3. First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A first for Elena.

First  
=======

"Maybe if you and I had met first."

Elena sucked in a breath, chuckling darkly at the irony of her life.

He was a dark, lean form shrouded against the blackness of the night, a predator full of fire and arrogance. She knew he was no good.

But then, that's exactly what Elena was looking for.

"You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, adventure, and even a little danger."

Looking back on it, he had been exactly what she needed. Passionate, dark, dangerous…and irresistible.

He had been the perfect contrast. The devil in a leather jacket, come to rid of her of what she couldn't let go of herself.

She had wanted everything he spoke of. He was the beautiful chaos in her perfectly structured world. He had offered her oblivion that night, only to snatch it back.

"I want you to get everything you're looking for."

Elena laughed. He was everything she was looking for. He was the sweet surrender from the perfect little good girl package she had become.

She had always done what people expected of her. Perfect grades, dated the jock, become a cheerleader. He was her perfectly unexpected.

And he had made her forget him.

Elena clenched a fist, relishing in the surge of power that rippled through her sleek new body. She opened her eyes, and he was there, stroking her hand gently, his image in perfect clarity that she had to blink several times.

"I was wrong," she whispered, wincing as an unknown fire in her throat surged.

His eyes crinkled, bewildered. "About what?" He shifted warily, conscious of her muscles that clenched beneath his palm.

She sat up from the cold table and took his face in her hands. "Maybe If I hadn't met you last, we wouldn't have made it here." She drew him close and brushed her lips against his. "The thing is Damon, you're still my first. You were my first then, and you're my first now. And that's all that matters."

========================================

Short but sweet! Hope you all like!


	4. The Benefits of Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sinful tale between our favorite couple.

The Benefits of Chocolate

Damon paused, leaning casually against the doorframe, an amused smirk forming on his lips.

He took the time to observe his state of the art kitchen, now in disarray. A mixing bowel teetered haphazardly on the edge of the counter, the mixer dripping a dark sticky batter onto the granite. Egg shells cluttered over the garbage bin, one having dribbled onto the floor. A dusting of flour covered the entire surface, including the petite young woman who was currently buried in an enormous cookbook, her face etched into a frown.

Her once white apron had a dark stain hardening into the crisp fabric. Her hair was slowly escaping the braid, tendrils falling around her face in wisps. She looked up froze, a deer in the headlights.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" He drawled.

She rolled her eyes, sighing in exasperation. "Don't pretend you don't know," she huffed and continued on with the mixing, slopping some batter over the side of the bowl.

Damon failed in hiding his scowl. "I told you, I didn't want any of this," he growled, sweeping his hand flippantly over her mess.

"Too bad," she quipped churlishly. Peeking up at him through her lashes, she immediately wishing she hadn't.

A predator now stood in the doorway, blocking any means of her escape. A dark and lethal gaze held hers, igniting a slow flicker in her stomach. Elena glued her eyes to the mixing bowl, methodically stirring over and over again. Her legs were quivering but she didn't dare look up again. When she finally found the courage to sneak another glance, the doorway was empty.

Shit.

Elena started, her hearth thumping wildly in her chest. It was too late. A vice like grip gripped her waist from behind, holding her in place.

"What?" His voice was low, like velvet in her ear. Elena stopped breathing. Strong fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, stroking the slip of skin there.

He turned her around swiftly relishing in the glazed look he found in her eyes. In a flash he had lifted her onto the counter, smirking as she let out a squeal. He stood between her legs, one hand resting on her thigh. Elena kicked herself for wearing her ratty sweats instead of jeans. What was sexy about grey spandex?

She gasped as he swooped in. She expected him to kiss her. Honestly, why else had he gotten so close? Her eyes fluttered close and she tipped her head forward, waiting.

"Mmmm." Elena heard a slick wet sound followed by a popping noise.

She snapped her eyes open to see him licking the batter from his fingers. "Vanilla." He murmured his eyes anchored to hers as he slowly sucked the sweetness from each digit.

"Honestly, I pegged you as more of a chocolate man myself." Elena's words came out dazed.

"Why is that?"

Elena gulped, gathering her nerves. "It's dark, sensuous, bitter yet sweet. It's never what you expect, but everything you want." She finished, her voice coming out in a rasp.

"And what if I like vanilla better?" He grasped her hips, pulling her closer to him.

Elena took a good, long look at him. His eyes were fixed intently on her, full of that fire that she had been evading for so long. He was right there, hopeful and waiting for what she had been so afraid to give him. Was it really that easy?

She tentatively brushed her lips against his. Elena shivered as he felt him lift her from the counter. Her hands went to his shoulders to steady herself. He hitched her up closer, and she gasped as his hands rested firmly under her bottom. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she peered up at him.

"Then you're in luck."

"Indeed I am," he said softly, stoking her cheek.

His hands tangled in the wisps of her hair, tilting her head to meet his lips.

Cake batter, he tasted like cake batter, Elena thought. Suddenly it was all so stunningly clear. It really was that easy to love him.

"I'll take my present now," he whispered huskily.

Elena nodded numbly, clutching fistfuls of his shirt in her hands. He had waited long enough.

Damon smiled against her trembling mouth. He had found a whole new meaning to the term Happy Birthday.

=====================================

Hope you readers enjoyed this! Did anyone catch the chocolate metaphor I snuck in there? I had Elena compare him to chocolate; I thought it fit his personality fairly well. Anyway please review and let me know your thoughts and comments, I love reading the feedback.


	5. All of the Above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who says multiple choice has to be difficult?

All of the Above

This is kind of long as far as one shots go, but I decided to roll with it. Honestly it was not meant to be so long, but I just kept writing and adding things until I had this! Anyway, things get a little smutty, just a fair warning. Enjoy!  
\-----------------------------------------------

The whisper of pages echoed in the hushed library.

Elena swept the tendrils of hair away from her face and rubbed her eyes sleepily. This test proved to be a lot harder to study then she expected it to be. Then again this was college, it wasn't meant to be a walk in the park.

Neither was studying biology, she thought wryly, her eyes blurring from staring so long at the cramped textbook print. She had been sitting there, slumped over her book for nearly four hours. She fumbled for her drink, taking a swig from the paper cup and relishing as the warmth of coffee trickled down her throat. Caffeine surged through her veins, but it would only last so long.

Her bed was calling her name back in her dorm room. With its soft, cream colored sheets and fluffy pillows, it sounded like heaven. Elena's head started to lull before she snapped herself out of it. She couldn't afford to sleep now, not with the test bright and early tomorrow. Glancing at the clock, she noted that it was nearly eleven and the library would be closing anyway. Deciding she could finish studying in her room she stood and gathered her books before shuffling wearily out the door and into the moonlight night.

Hugging her sweatshirt close against the Fall chill, she walked briskly under the halogen lamps of the campus, heading towards her building. A blast of warm air washed over her as she entered the dorms, immediately thawing her tingling fingers. Elena hummed in content, glad to be out of the cold.

Making her way down the dimly lit hall, she shuffled to her dorm room. Elena jostled her books while fishing her keys out of her bag. Fumbling, she managed to unlock the door and all but stumbled into her darkened room and into a pair of strong, lean arms.

She gasped, scrambling away from the stranger. A low chuckled rumbled through the shadows, sending her heart into a beating frenzy. Her arms prickled as heat raced through her veins. Heart hammering in her chest, she reached for the light switch, flicking it on and bathing the two of them in harsh florescence.

He was leaning against her desk as if he almost belonged there. She wasn't all that surprised. After all these years, she was used to his unannounced visits. Dressed in dark fitted jeans, a button down shirt, and his signature leather jacket, he was the picture of confidence. She looked at him, suddenly very aware of her unkempt appearance. She brushed some stray wisps of hair away from her face, all the while wishing she had thought to brush some concealer over the dark circles under her eyes.

He strolled towards her, eyes dancing. "Rough night, college girl?" He offered her his trade mark smirk, hoping to coax a smile out of her.

She sighed, trudging over to her twin mattress and dropping onto it in exhaustion. "You could say that," she mumbled, her face already smashed into her pillow. How she would kill for a solid eight hours right now.

She lifted her head, cracking an eye open, intent on telling him to leave her to her torture. Her response died in her throat.

He was inches away, his cool breath fanning across her lips. Dark wisps of hair fell into crackling blue eyes. He was kneeling before her bed, his hand splayed out over her homemade quilt, inches from her thigh. Elena's breath hitched in her throat. Heat bloomed across her cheeks. He was so close.

In a last ditch effort she snatched up her textbook and shoved it in his face, creating a barrier between them.

Her eyes peaked over the thick spine of the book, following the curve of his eyebrows, sweeping past those smoldering eyes, to the gentle slope of his nose, down to the puckered smirk of his lips.

"I-I have to study," she whispered, hating how breathless she sounded in front of him.

He cocked an amused brow but said nothing, only turned away from her.

She buried her nose in pages of expression cloning and eukaryotic cells, trying her best to ignore him completely. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him move. Her eyes flicked back and forth from her text to the lean vampire that prowled her room. She watched as he inspected various objects on her desk and poked at the plush pillows on her roommate's bed. For several moments, all was quiet as Elena struggled to read the cramped scientific text.

Turning back to the page, she realized that she had been reading the same sentence over and over again without retaining any of it. She sighed, propping her chin in her hand.

He turned towards her, a wicked gleam in his eye. She eyed him warily.

"I can see that you're really concentrating," he drawled.

She huffed, having been caught watching him. It's not like he made it easy to concentrate.

"It's not as easy as it looks," she pouted, thumbing the book listlessly.

"Well why don't I make things a little easier for you?" He was strolling towards her looking positively feral.

Once close he grabbed her book. His thumb brushed her pouting lower lip.

"None of that. Save it for later." His comment sent Elena's blood into a humming frenzy.

"Which chapters are you studying?"

"Four through six," she answered, eyes crinkling in confusion as she watched him leaf through the pages.

He settled in her desk chair, tilting it back as he flicked through meticulous facts and diagrams.

"Which of the following organisms participate in the nitrogen cycle? Is it, A. denitrifying bacteria, B. Chemosynthetic bacteria, C. Saprophytes, or D. all of the above?" His eyes were dancing with amusement.

"All of the above," Elena answered, still puzzled as she watched him ease up from the chair with a smirk.

"Correct," he praised, shrugging out of his jacket.

"How is this supposed to make studying any easier for me? I could just study the questions myself," she griped.

"Just hush and let me ask the questions. You just concentrate on getting them right." He gave her a lavish wink.

The gaze behind his eyes left her skin prickling with heat. Turning away she mumbled for him to continue.

He licked his finger and turned the page. Elena couldn't help but watch as his tongue darted out and pressed the pad of his thumb.

"Which is true of ecological succession? A. Pioneer species move into new communities first, B. Climax communities have lower total biomass than preceding communities; C. Species diversity is greatest in the early stages of succession, D. Climax communities shift constantly, or E. All of the above."

Elena pondered the question for a few seconds before answering. "A, Pioneer species move into new communities first."

"Correct," his voice was smooth, melting. Why was he smiling?

"I still don't see how-." She stopped short.

Damon was slowly unbuttoning his shirt. A sliver of ivory skin peaked through the fabric and Elena's mind went blank.

She could see the planes of his chest. Long, lean muscle etched in creamy marble. Elena could not find her sense. It was lost, buried somewhere beneath the hot, frantic pulsing of her heart. Fire crackled in her veins. Something thick and heavy settled in her stomach. It burned slowly, deliciously.

In the small, rational part of her mind, Elena knew that there were risks. The walls were thin. Her roommate could come in at any time. She had to study. It was Damon.

She dragged her eyes up from his chest to find him staring at her, something dark and untamed flickering in his eyes.

Licking her lips she managed to find her voice.

"N-next question," she rasped.

In a haze she heard him ask. Her mind was fuzzy, muddled with the thought of him, of them, and what they could be together. Fumbling with her thoughts she took a guess at the answer.

She knew immediately that she was wrong.

"Incorrect." His voice was low, disappointed. He began to button his shirt.

No! The feeling gripped her with a sudden frenzied panic. She moved towards him, stumbling in her rush. She saw him move to catch her. Her hands brushed against the opening of his shirt, feeling the heated skin beneath the fabric. Elena bit her lip. She couldn't ignore this, she decided.

As if reading her mind, he snapped the book closed and tossed it away. "Screw studying."

He snatched her to him and his lips found hers in a hungry kiss, cupping her bottom and pulling her against him. Elena moaned as her body met his, rubbing together in delicious friction. When her fingers stroked his chest he hummed appreciatively.

His hands roamed, tracing the hem of her baggy sweatshirt, tugging eagerly.

He helped her with it pulling it over her head, revealed a simple lace camisole. Damon was no fool. His heated gaze fell to the soft curves of her hips, the ample swell of her breasts, giving just a hint of cleavage.

His head jerked to the crumpled sweatshirt she tossed over her chair. "You wear that a lot?"

"Hm?" Elena watched his eyes flick from the hoodie to the fitted camisole she wore. She caught the edge in his voice, and immediately formed a devious plan.

"Oh, you know, here and there." She turned away from him, hiding a devilish smile. She made a show of stretching her arms, so that the camisole inched up, revealing a sliver of olive skin.

She did not miss his intake of breath. He was fighting it, she realized. She smirked. "You know sometimes it gets warm outside and I have to take it off—"She was cut off by a growl.

In seconds she was flush against his chest. She felt his finger slip under her shirt, finding her bare skin and stroking it possessively. "The only one you're taking that off for is me," he said heatedly in her ear.

He whirled her around to face him. She caught his piercing stare, full of desire. Elena's breath came in gasps now as she felt her body react to the thought of doing just that.

His head dipped and he caught her mouth, his lips searing. "Tease," he hissed. Elena felt her legs go numb. She leaned against him as he lifted her up and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Her hands snaked around his neck, her body utterly limp as he trailed fire down her throat. He nipped and nibbled, stroked and coaxed her until she surrendered to him willingly.

When he peeled off her shirt to reveal a lacy red bra, she couldn't help but blush.

"Not embarrassed now are we?" His voice was husky as he gave her an appreciative look.

"Shut up," she mumbled, pressing her lips to his eagerly.

"Oh, Miss Gilbert, such language," he admonished, pinning her to the bed.

"I may just have to flunk you," he warned, his lips trailed lower, skimming the pale column of her throat, hovering over her throbbing pulse.

"How about you just fuck me?" She lifted her hips eagerly, brushing against him.

He growled, hitching her leg over his hip. His hands dipped lower, finding the button of her jeans.

The denim slid slowly down to reveal her delicious legs. His fingers caught the edge of her panties, toying with the soft cotton. He watched as her eyes darkened with need as he stroked and teased her.

"Pop Quiz Miss Gilbert," he whispered against her neck.

Do you want me?" He asked her, his hands brushing low, slipping in her soaked panties, stroking her wet folds softly.

Elena whimpered as his hands found her sweet spot. She pushed against him, eager for more contact. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling his lips to her mouth. She nibbled and sucked his swollen flesh, smirking when she heard him moan against her.

He continued on, despite her efforts to avoid answering.

"A. For sex, B. As a boyfriend, or C. As friends?"

Maybe it was the stress, or the lack of sleep that made her thoughts falter. Or the fact that she hadn't been with someone in so long it made her ache with need. And he was there, hovering over her, looking so worn and rugged and so Damon that it made her want to wrap her arms around him forever.

He had always hovered, come to think of it. Elena could think of very few times when he was not there, always a shadow in her peripheral vision, that distant thought that never failed to flutter to the forefront of her mind. He had remained that constant in her life, and no matter how hard she tried she had not been able to shake him off. She wasn't sure that she wanted to now, or how she could live with her own regret if he ever decided to leave on his own.

She knew he wanted an answer, he deserved one. After all, they couldn't keep doing what they were doing without consequences. She would not be Katherine. She had to make a choice. Why the decision between what was was best for her and what she wanted so difficult?

That's when she realized with a sob. He was the best thing for her because he was what she wanted. Tears welled in her eyes and threatened to spill over.

Suddenly aware of the man who held her, she looked up at him, lips trembling. He was waiting. He had always been waiting.

Taking a steady breath she managed to answer him. "D, all of the above," she warbled her vision blurry with tears.

She heard his sharp intake of breath. She carefully leaned her forehead against his. "I want all of those things with you. I'm in love with you."

The damn broke then. She turned away, not wanting him to see her cry over him. She couldn't believe what a fool she had been not to see it. How much he loved her and how much she had tried to bury her own feelings for him.

Damon turned her face towards him. She looked so vulnerable then, so raw and emotional, and so much like himself. Both afraid to love, afraid to be hurt, and so unbelievably attracted to one another there was no denying it anymore.

"Correct," he breathed, his voice ragged.

He moved in to whisper in her ear. "I love you." His voice was so raw and guttural that her heart ached.

She felt his lips on hers, catching her tears. He was so gentle that she wanted to cry all over again.

"I love you," he said again between kisses.

She tried to speak, her voice caught like a lump in her throat. She clutched to him, pulling him closer. "I love you too, so much," she whispered.

For the next hour he proceeded to love her well. Somewhere beneath the haze that had settled over her, between the soft caresses, the breathy gasps and heated kisses, she remembered her test.

She lay there in his arms, her body flushed and tingling. Twisting in the sheets, she turned to stare up at him, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept with a peaceful look softening his features. A small giggle escaped her as she thought of her test early the next morning. She may be failing biology, but she would most definitely ace anatomy. She had found him at last. And he was better than an A any day.

\-----------------------

I hope you all liked it! Please review, I love and appreciate all your feedback, comments, sighs, squeals, and the like. Thanks again for reading.


	6. Well and Truly His

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the people we look to shatter, to throw away, are the most coveted of all.

So I know that this is meant to center around the Damon/Elena pairing, and it does for the most part. I just felt like throuwing this little

tid bit in here, because I always felt like there was more to say between the brothers. Takes place in "The Killer" episode, the cave scene.

Well and Truly His

"Tell me," he growled, becoming desperate, fangs tingling in his teeth snapped dangerously close to Stefan's neck. A tinge of hysteria swept through Damon's eyes, and he tightened his grip, hearing Stefan's glottal choke.

He pushed past the colored blue shirt, desperately seeking leeway. Stefan's skin gave easily enough beneath his fist. He always knew the Bambi diet would be his brother's undoing.

Damon felt the arteries clench around his hand, pulsing angrily, attempting to reject the foreign invader. Blood seeped from the gaping wound he had created. He watched Stefan suck in a gasp between clenched teeth. Good. He'd focus on that. The shuddering body pinned beneath his grip brought him familiarity and a strange sense of comfort. Damon knew death. He knew how its victims ultimately clung pitifully to the finally threads of life before giving in to the hand that drew them into the abyss.

They often welcomed it. The darkness nudged and prodded them, leading them into a velvet wrapped haze where there was no pain or sorrow. Life's trivialities fell away under death's soft caress.

Damon had often felt it, the last whisperings of life flutter away under his hands. The beautiful, frantic pulsing would stutter, and then stop. The warm, steady flow would cease and he would pull away, already lonely.

Stefan was different, of course. For one thing, he would never go willingly into death. Not even with Damon dragging him in. He would never go, not without his brother. He had brought Damon to the hellish world they now inhabited. An unwilling participant, Stefan had forced Damon, unable and unwilling to face it alone

Damon felt it then. Beneath the solid plate of bone that was his brother's sternum. It was there, beating frantically, a delicious fast paced tempo that sang a sweet melody to his ears. He clawed in desperation, needing to put an end to his brother's childish front, eager to hear the heart beat falter, terrified should it stop.

Stefan gasped, clenching frantically at the hand that threatened to tear his heart from his chest. The hand that had that had once fed him, helped him toddle his first steps, and ultimately picked up his broken existence and brought him back from the edge that he had lived on for centuries.

"Klaus will kill anyone who knows," Stefan gasped, panting heavily, sweat beading down his forehead in rivets.

Damon's hand clenched over his heart. "It has to be good, he rasped. "Now spill it!"

Stefan said nothing, and Damon was left with the violent shuttering of his brother's body.

"Spill it!" Damon's eyes flashed, fear and desperation bubbling hot in his throat. His fangs slipped from his gums in a brief flash of pain. Blue eyes seeped red as veins danced across his cheeks. He pressed the needle points to the fluttering pulse on Stefan's neck.

He felt his brother stiffen under his hand, and then Damon was palming Stefan's neck, smoothing over the pale white column of his throat. He turned him, exposing the vulnerable swell of the jugular vein.

He would not let Stefan play the martyr for Klaus or anyone else. His brother would remain his until hell came to claim Damon.

"Submit." He hissed, his fangs pricking the skin slightly.

Immediately Stefan went limp, sagging heavily against Damon's shoulder.

Finally!

"There's a cure," Stefan whispered, breathing raggedly into his brother's leather jacket. He no longer fought, but instead let Damon hold him upright. The older brother withdrew his hand from Stefan's chest with an inward sigh of relief. Of course there was a cure. Never mind that they'd been living with each other for over a century now.

Looking back on it now, Stefan had appeared downright defensive when Damon had come melting from the darkness, all heat and spite, tensed, crouched, and ready to pounce, to take what was his.

He had gripped Connor like he was a life line, looking like a guilty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Only Stefan didn't feel guilty. Not this time.

And his fingers were shining crimson.

Damon couldn't sneak him cookies anymore. Instead he would be forced to rectify his baby brother's mistakes, however noble they might have been.

The elder Salvatore brother snorted. Noble. Stefan may as well have been the poster child for nobility. He was always trying to do the right thing. Then the right thing became something of a hindrance, a gimp. It was Stefan's pitiful crutch that he insisted on dragging throughout his endless existence.

Eventually Stefan's crutch would be what crippled him, Damon realized. Not he, not Elena. It would be his failure to leave things as they were. Mistakes always made in good intentions, however frantic and misguided they were. Frozen at seventeen, he was an eternal child.

What he would never understand was that he was Damon's child.

It didn't matter how much Stefan still loved Elena, how desperately he clung to that notion that he could mold her into the girl he had met on the bridge. Hell, it didn't even matter that Damon loved Elena with an all consuming passion that left him dizzy and drugged by his own inability to just walk away from her.

All that mattered in this fleeting moment was that Stefan was Damon's in a way that he was no one else's. Everything else was ash scattering in the wind. He would be left holding the smoldering match, wondering how he managed to burn everything to hell once again.


	7. Fragments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hated the rain.

Fragments

Rain spattered her window, cold rivets trickling down the pane. She stared outside, chin propped in her hand. She eyed the grey clouds, swirling among the downpour, tendrils of darkness inking across the sky. The makings of a real storm.

She hated thunderstorms.

They reminded her of then. Of memories shrouded in darkness. Her thoughts drifted unwillingly to a night she locked away. It was there, always.

At the edge of her memory it sat, teetering on the edge of oblivion. How she longed to fling it over the edge, into the abyss.

But she could not.

She would not.

As much as she longed to cast it out to allow the darkness to swallow it up forever, her mind remained fixed. She held fast, clinging to that memory that would continue to undo her completely, leaving her cold and breathless as ice seeped into her veins, chilling her.

Just like the rain.

And yet. With the rain, brought images, swirling in her head. A memory, this one different. It washed over her, shattering the ice in her veins with warmth and light.

Long dark hair tickled her chin. Sparkling mahogany eyes twinkled, mirth brimming behind them.

Silly girl!

A soft hand tickled her, dancing against her neck, and under her ribs. Orange blazed in the fireplace, its warmth wrapping her in a gentle blanket. The rain lashed against the window outside.

Mamma! Just one more, please!

Laughter bubbled, sweet and soft.

All right, but after this, it's time for bed!

She tucked in, close to Mamma's warmth, clutching her mug of hot chocolate. It was a coveted treat, earned with sparkling eyes and just a hint of pleading.

Mamma's voice washed over her, filling her with warmth as she spun a tale of wonder. She told of a man with sparkling eyes and a voice soft as velvet. He was strong as steel, yet his heart could shatter. He could live an impossibly long time, and yet his life could be end should his heart be compromised.

Forever, Mamma?

More laughter, and those hands so soft and tender, were smoothing over her hair.

Perhaps my love.

Mamma's eyes had twinkled with a secret.

Soon enough, her mug was empty, the story had dwindled to its end.

Or so she had thought.

The warmth trickled away, and with it her sweetest of memories, leaving her huddling on the window seat cowering before the rain.

Beautifully broken, that's what she was. Fractured by the memories that she refused to release. They were apart of her.

As much as he.

His eyes pierced hers, blue shattering brown. She crumpled. Softness against steel.

He flooded her with everything she desired and everything she feared to gain. Unworthy as she, to hold such a heart, made of stone, and yet so fragile. How could she, so soft and warm, hold he so cold and beautiful?

A butterfly among the frost.

So.

She reached out a tentative hand. Hovering inches from his cheek, pale and chiseled. Her own heart thrummed in her chest, a frantic beat.

A bird in a cage. Too afraid to open the door.

He hovered before her, utterly still, awaiting her. Craving her touch, yet not expecting it.

He never expected good.

She was everything soft and gentle, sweet and innocent. She was his light, his sun peaking through the rumbling storm clouds that battered his soul. How could he, so hard and cold, hold her, so soft and yielding? How could a heart of stone protect the very one who threatened to be his undoing?

A lion feared the lamb.

And yet.

He took her hand, that hovered so close to his cheek. Did he dare take the leap? To leap into that unknown, that dark nothingness? He was no stranger to the void. For so long he had called the darkness home. He wrapped himself in its seductive embrace, without a second thought that there was any other option. He let it whisper in his ear, ink into his soul, and splinter his heart.

His lips brushed her knuckles, soft and warm.

What was that? Through the abyss that cloaked him, a soft glow. Light. Warmth. He trembled as icy thorns pricked him, the darkness coiling in his soul. It whispered to him, soft and honeyed. Promises of power, seduction, yielding to no one. It would be so easy. To slide back into the shadows.

He was selfish. Cool, calculating, ruthless, and seductive. Beholden to no one. All who fell under his wintery gaze bent before his will.

And yet.

She was selfless. Warm, kind, inviting, and with a love that was unconditional. Bound to help those in need. All who fell under her brilliant gaze found the good, stood in the light that flowed from her very being.

He wanted this. To be free to stand in the light. To give his heart to another, one who would treasure it.

Did he deserve to?

Light, pure and golden shattered his darkness. He let it trickle over him, warmth melting the icicles that clung to his soul.

He pressed his cheek into her hand, melting into her touch.

Fragments of light dappled in the darkness. Thats what they both were. Fragments. She flippantly danced within his shadows, teasing him with what could be, all that he wanted but was afraid to have. He posed on the edge of her light, shrouded in mystery, all that she craved, yet was afraid to allow herself.

Soft thumbs stroked the dark smudges beneath her eyes.

"I'm afraid too." He whispered, his breath soft in her ear.

She trembled under his touch. Terrified to fall yet knowing that he would catch her. His lips were there, inches away, breathing life into her when she all but wanted to fade away.

Elena blinked, her eyes fluttering closed. She leaned into Damon's warmth, her lips claiming his.

They would fall together.

The rain poured on outside, utterly forgotten.

—

Well? What did you think? I do hope you enjoyed it, and please review as this helps me know what you the reader is thinking! I do so appreciate all you readers and any reviews you leave!

Also any ideas for another chapter? I am open to suggestions!


	8. Game Night

Game Night

“Left hand blue,” Caroline chirped. 

She was perched on the sofa, cuddled up to Stefan.

Barf. 

Why was he here again?

Here. As in crowded in his brothers girlfriends living room with a half a dozen yahoos. Beer cans floated in an icy tub. Bowls filled with salty snacks crowded the coffee table. Spinners, cards, and dice were strewn about the room. 

Fucking game night. 

Damon sulked in the corner, sipping from his can. 

He suppressed a grimace as the bitter liquid hit his tongue. Gods, he would kill for a bourbon right about now. 

This is game night, not a rendezvous with one of your call girls. Stefan had warned him before this engaging evening had commenced. 

Damon snorted. His little brother wasn’t fooling anyone. He eyed the younger Salvatore as Stefan’s hand crept up Caroline’s thigh. 

Stefan’s emerald eyes gave an impressive facade of enthusiasm, even as his knuckles rubbed circles into her soft flesh. Damon surpassed an eye roll, catching the tell tale signs of a man hoping to get lucky at the end of the night.

Stefan was familiar enough with women, having had a handful of relationships. However, the incomparable Caroline Forbes seemed to have caught his eye.

Damon gave her a cursory glance. With her flaxen curls, sparkling blue eyes and porcelain skin, Caroline was a beauty there was no denying it.

Just not the one for you. 

He snorted at the very idea of Caroline Forbes. 

The idea of her, wrapped in her cashmere sweater the color of creme had him nearly in stitches. Dragging him to shoe sales, pitching her reports to him before a big story, cuddling by the fire.

Stefan was perfect for her. 

The undisputed golden boy. Top of his class at Dartmouth. Promising new intern at the non profit office downtown. Make that paid intern. 

Stefan had majored in Environmental Studies, with an emphasis on botany. He was going to save the world, one fern at a time.

Damon caught his brothers eye again, and raised his beer in a mock salute. Stefan arched an eyebrow.

Damon turned away, a small smile tugging at his lips for an instant. 

Yes, Stefan was the perfect boyfriend. Even if he did want to get lucky with his girl. A man was a man.

Damon’s thoughts darkened. What was he then?

He found himself crushing the beer can between whitened knuckles. Did he truly envy his younger brother?

Hot shame washed through him and he battered it back, stalking through the house. 

Ridiculous.

He prowled passed the various groups in the midst of dice rolling, drawing cards, betting.

It was all so trivial.

He tossed his can into the bin, hearing it clank with the already growing pile. Perhaps a change of scenery would lighten his mood.

Ambling out the back door of the kitchen, Damon started down the stairs. 

The hint of Fall tingled in his nose, with the scent of smoke and cedar wood. A bonfire crackled merrily against the cool, crisp air. 

Laughter bubbled over the flames, loud and unabashed. 

He found himself glancing up, despite himself.

A voice floated over the flames, tinged with laughter and mirth. A woman’s voice.

“Hah! Pay up,” she crowed. 

He found himself crossing the yard, through the shimmering grass and towards the glow of the fire. 

She was there, around the wavering flames of the fire, perched unassuming on a lawn chair. 

Dark mahogany hair fell in soft waves over olive skin. She was playing cards with two others, a young woman and her partner. Not that Damon could give a damn about the other two.

She was winning by the looks of things. She snatched her drink up, and took a celebratory sip, the cup angling against her rosebud colored lips.

He caught a glimmer of her eyes, deep chocolate brown, brimming with the bold glaze of someone who had won the round. 

The other two were grumbling and shoved their cards back into the pile to be reshuffled. A small handful of crumpled bills sat in the center of their circle.

Well. Well.

She took the cards and reshuffled them between nimble fingers. Brilliant aubergine colored her nails. A sharp contrast to the French Manicures he had seen lately. 

Instead of silk, Chiffon, and sky high heels, his eyes roamed over dark wash jeans that encompassed sharply thighs. A burgundy Henley clung to her athletic frame. Sturdy boots capped off her look. 

He circled the fire slowly, his eyes encompassing every detail about the girl playing cards. 

The dark curve of her lashes that fluttered when she laughed. Her nose, crinkling up at something said, a joke perhaps. How she threw her head back, laughter spilling from her mouth.

Those lips.

He found himself shadowing their little group. A predator stalking them around the brilliant burn of flames. 

He would have laughed, had it not been for the slow smolder that egnighted in his chest. It licked at his heart, fiery and hopeful. He started, completely unprepared for this emotion that stirred thick and hot, sending his heart into a frenzy.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He chanced another look from his spot on the patio, just out of their line of sight. The flames hiding him in their fiery blaze. 

The couple had left. She was alone. 

Almost of his own accord, he found himself approaching her. The glow cast by the fire fell across her face, and she looked up.

Heat, blazing and merciless bloomed in his chest, licking fire in his veins until he was left silently gasping.

Those eyes captured his, caging him. What was this?

In the few seconds it took him to approach her, he found himself captivated by every detail of her.

The gentle hollow of her throat where he could see her pulse beating frantically. Fire ached in his throat. He pushed it back, already an afterthought. The glint of silver hanging around her neck caught his eye. The intricate detail of the soft lace on her shirt. The way the soft glow of the fire washed over her skin.

She caught him in her gaze, and her mouth curved up in a small smile.

Then he was there, by her side as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She was snarky, and bold, yet soft and kind. Everything he never knew he needed. 

Time passed, how much he did not know. It didn’t really matter. He found himself opening up in her presence. Those very eyes that captivated him, so full of life. A life he suddenly found himself irrevocably apart of.

Her lips parted, and she smiled, fire glinting in her eyes.

“Ante up.”

Fuck it.

Damon folded. 

————————————-

I would love to here your thoughts in a review! I would very much appreciate it! Also, any IDEAS for next chapter!! I want to hear your voice!!  
Thank you!!  
-Moonandstar331


	9. Froth

**This is going to be a 2-part, mainly because it is quite long. I do hope you enjoy!**

**=======================**

**Froth**

Damon Salvatore suppressed a grimace for the what felt like the tenth time in the last hour. Never in a thousand years would he have pegged himself one of _those_ men. The kind that trail after their girlfriends, laden down with shopping bags.

Yet here he was.

He eyed his lady, clicking a few feet ahead of him wearing five-inch heels. How she walked in those monstrosities was a mystery to him. He eyed her ass as it swished in her mini skirt. Her long legs seeming endless, albeit twig like.

Still, he supposed there were _some_ advantages.

“Damon, I’m thirsty,” she trilled over her shoulder.

He glanced up from his fantasy to see her already clacking towards a café.

He eyed the café dubiously. Tucked away in between several posh boutiques, it looked rather shabby. Certainly not the kind of place Katherine would associate herself.

No, she was more accustomed to white tablecloths, classical music, and ridiculously priced entrees. Not that she bothered to ever eat much of it anyway. Katherine’s diet consisted mainly of green lettuce, or as Damon liked to call it, rabbit food.

She sustained on rabbit food and protein shakes. She did Palaties. She weighed herself daily. 

Damon shuddered before he found himself cast unmercifully into a memory; he was trying hard to bury.

Her mascara was running in dark streaks down her perfectly made up face. Designer clothes were piled in a haphazard heap. She had stood in front of the full-length mirror loathing herself.

He tried to soothe her in his own way. He had gone in for a kiss. She had turned away, rebuffing him with some excuse about her lipstick smudging.

_Her lipstick._ That was what she worried about. His eyes scanned over her hollow form. Sharp hips splintered from her frame. Her cheeks sunk beneath her too pale face. A chest so frail, he could see the bump of each rib as it jutted from her taught skin. Those lips that she shoveled greens into were pale and bloodless.

He was left staring in horror at the beautifully breakable stranger she had be become, wondering what the hell happened.

The bell clanged, and he blinked, the memory receding into the dark coils of his mind. Damon found himself standing in a warm foyer that smelled of chocolate and coffee. Somehow, through his darkened haze, he had followed Katherine into the café.

Cherrywood tables cluttered against the far wall. A fireplace, breathed warm and light into the room. A large couch and two overstuffed chairs gathered around the grate. Steam rose from the kitchen. Flaky delicacies lined the glossy display cabinet. Cheesy music poured from a speaker hooked in the corner. People were mulling about sipping organic, hipster crap from colorful mugs.

Damon’s eyes swept the scene, before he spotted his girlfriend. She was sitting in one of the armchairs. So fragile and pale, the chair nearly swallowed her frame.

He trudged over to her, and deposited the bags at her feet.

“Interesting choice,” he quipped. His arm swept over the ridiculously cheery atmosphere. 

Katherine pierced her lips in what was meant to be a pout. Her face just looked more pinched.

“Le Boudoir was not open.”

Her arms folded, sticks against her concaved chest. She looked away. Her steely gaze roamed the café with an iron clade critique. Almost as if by silently demanding it, the atmosphere would change. That was the end of the conversation.

Damon wanted to be angry with her. But looking at her too frail frame, he couldn’t muster the strength.

“I’ll get us something to drink,” he muttered.

“A small iced coffee. No cream, no sugar, or whip.” Katherine was already turning back to her phone, face aglow in her Instagram account.

Damon felt something in him crumble. As a model, her life would be chained to such social media drivel. Her entire existence was dependent on what others thought of her. What she wore, what she ate, how much she weighed. She savored every word that was spoke, tweeted or wrote about her. She ate up the glowing praise that people spun about the “infamous Katherine Pierce.”

Where did that leave him?

He wondered up to the counter.

Through the swath of fragrant steam, a woman’s face appeared on the other side of the counter. Damon blinked. Through the caffeine infused haze, he glimpsed a pair of twinkling eyes the color of cocoa.

“Sorry about that, the steam can get a little much” she said with a warm smile.

Damon found himself staring without realizing. Perhaps it was the lack of caffeine buzzing in his veins, or the warmth of this absurdly cozy café. Heat bloomed suddenly in his chest, thawing the frost that crackled in his bones.

The girl was still waiting.

Damon grappled with himself for a moment, then got his bearings.

“Er, I’ll have uh…” his eyes scanned the chalkboard.

The board was artfully decorated with hand drawn pictures of different drinks and baked goods. He surveyed the menu, looking utterly confused. Names such as, _The Original_

_The All Nighter, Pepper Up Mocha,_ and _Vervane Tea_ dotted the board in curling letters.

Jesus, what happened to a latte or cappuccino?

He racked his brain trying to come up with something that would fulfill his caffeine fix without it tasting like glorified sugar in a cup.

“May I make a suggestion?” she asked.

Her smile was there again, flitting so easily to her face. “If you like coffee, I would recommend our _Midnight Mocha._ It’s got the coffee for any caffeine junkie, and we swirl in our house made chocolate sauce. Add a dollop of whipped cream and it’s decadent!”

She absentmindedly tucked a strand of mahogany hair behind her ear. Tendrils hung in wisps around her face, escaping from her braid. Her apron was splattered in chocolate and flour.

Damon found himself suddenly thinking of Katherine and her polished, flawless look that she spent countless hours achieving.

“Yes, I will take a large Mocha then,” he said, pulling a $20 from his wallet.

She was beaming, and he found he liked it.

“And a maple donut,” he said suddenly, feeling impulsive.

“Excellent pairing with the mocha! Can I get you anything else?” she asked him.

That’s right Katherine’s drink. He had nearly forgotten. _That_ would have gone over well.

“A small iced coffee.”

She was smiling again. “Any cream or sugar?” She asked.

He nearly snorted. What a silly question. This was _Katherine._

“No, just as it is, thanks.” His lips turned up a fraction, as if sharing a joke with this girl at the counter.

Ridiculous. As if she would know why his lips twitched, on the verge of a chuckle.

She gave him his total and he handed the bill over. His hands brushed her fingers for the briefest instant, and his eyes flashed there.

Electric blue shined on her nimble fingers. His eyes caught a glint of silver. A ring.

_Not a wedding ring._

He reeled at the sudden and perfect clarity of which the thought came fleeting into his head. It had come so suddenly and without warning.

_What the hell?_

She had caught him looking. In a flash the ring came into focus. It was small, delicate and made of glittering silver. Upon closer look, Damon saw that the shining silver was shaped to look like a cup of coffee.

“It’s a present, to me from myself.” 

Her voice was smiling. Suddenly Damon wanted to know why.

As if reading his mind, she went on.

“When I took over this place, I decided to get myself a little memento.” She looked fondly at the ring on her hand.

_She was the owner._ Damon’s head spun oddly with the thought, as he tried hard not to stare at her. This young woman, covered in flour and chocolate, who smiled so easily. The warmth of the place seemed to seep a little more into his chest, like a cozy fire making a home. 

She put his cash into the register, and then counted back his change. Handing it back, she suddenly spoke.

“’I’m Elena.”

“Damon,” he murmured.

Suddenly he found his hand shaking hers, warm and soft, dusted with flour. He pulled away; his own fingers dusted with the fine substance.

“I’m so sorry!” She apologized, eyes wide, as if caught doing something she shouldn’t. She wiped her hands gingerly on her stained apron.

“It’s all right,” he said with a wry smile.

“Thanks for the suggestion,” he went on, stuffing a wad of bills into the tip jar.

_It was looking depressingly empty_. That’s what he told himself as he eyed the jar with minimal change jangling at the bottom.

“Thank you for your generosity Damon,” she grinned.

“Your drinks will be brought to your table.” She gave him another smile and he felt as though he should say something.

Instead he nodded, stepping away, as the man behind him brushed past to place his order. The man was tall, and dressed impeccably in an Italian suite. Dark blonde hair slicked back. Bright blue the eyes twinkled with confidence as he swaggered up to the counter.

Damon glanced back. She was already taking the man’s order. He said something in a lulling British accent. Damon caught the tell end of it.

“A black tea with milk for me, thanks love.”

He said something else that Damon didn’t hear. Then she was laughing, the sound warm and sweet.

Heat bubbled in his veins suddenly. He shook his head, walking back to the table and to Katherine.

\------------------------------------

Thoughts? Please leave a comment/review, I would greatly appreciate it. I would love to hear from you. There will be a part 2, I am currently working on it. I split this because it ended up being really long (like over 10 pages). Thanks all! The readers are what keep me motivated!

-Moonandstar331


End file.
